


What Thunder Said

by iggycakes



Series: Vignettes from Motorcity [4]
Category: Motorcity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggycakes/pseuds/iggycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, how did the Duke of Detroit and Rayon meet anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Thunder Said

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, once again based off one of Mirre's prompt/headcanons. She is fodder for great ideas, really! Anyway, the title of this short story is from T.S. Eliot's the Waste Land-- because I'm a big English dork. It's not directly related to any of the other fics I wrote in this series, but I have been writing the other stories with this headcanon in mind, so.

The ceiling roared with a life and vigor of its town. There was no rain or lightning, not yet, but the thunder grumbled with the strength of a hundred lions. It echoed and beat across Motorcity, almost threateningly—but there was a boy who absolutely loved it. Thunder was the best bass to the concerts he held in his mind.

Much of Motorcity was still uncharted, empty and abandoned. It was a whole land out there for him to discover and make his; a large map full of treasures and beauties waiting for him to find them, because no one else could appreciate the treasures of this city the same way he did. The scene dressed itself before him, like a wide panorama. He noticed the tree first—because it was impossible to miss. It was huge, imposing, probably ages old, and it glowed with a soft magical tingle. Its giant roots grew into an old abandoned building, greyed and ruined by the torches of time and decay. Cracks and holes decorated the desolate structure, looking almost eerie and haunted. But the boy couldn’t see it that way. To him, the land was an ugly duckling waiting to blossom. There was so much potential here, he knew.

So little trees were left in Motorcity that the boy wondered how this place could go unnoticed for so long. Not that he cared. Even if there were people here, he’d find a way to make it his. He’d clean it up and make it into the beautiful dove it deserved to be.

Thunder shook the world again, this time rain splashing down with it. The boy skipped with a grin, throwing a great riff on his air guitar while he sung the notes out loud.

The echo changed as soon as he stepped into the abandoned building, taking shelter from the rain. The sound of his voice jumped from concrete to concrete like a beautiful symphony. He strutted, making spins on the ground, imagining a crowd of loyal minions enjoying his show. He stuck his tongue out as another thunder hit and he changed riffs accordingly.

The sleeves of his giant Canada goose jacket flailed and swung as he played. They practically trailed on the ground as he ran around excitedly while the rest of his coat streamed down his body like an oversized dress. The boy’s hood was firmly sitting over his head, the fur on it making him look like a tiny snow mountain monster. He was like a red abominable snowman, the way he drowned in his jacket.

He ends the number with a fresh hot guitar solo, accompanied by gibberish noises and the occasional English word. Then, he bows, proud of himself for yet another successful concert, when he finally hears the soft whimpering nearby.

Or at least it sounded nearby. In this echo, any noise within a mile could sound close.

The boy kept an ear out for the source of the cries.  

And, when he pinpointed the source, he skipped in its direction. He strolled into the last room at the end of the ruined hallway, flailing his arms in awe at the giant hole in the outer wall. Thunder boomed again and bright sparks of lightning came trashing down like fireworks at a rock concert.

The boy slapped his hood off by swinging his sleeve and approached the gaping hole with great interest. “Wooow!”

His awe-inspiring moment was found interrupted by the same weak whimper he followed here. Straightening his face, he turned around and walked over to a half-broken table leaning over a giant, protruding tree root. There was a boy sitting there, all curled up, shivering from cold and terror.

“Hey, what’s up?”

-0-

The storm raged around and rain sputtered against the decayed concrete like swarms. Thunder boomed without warning, its bass sweeping the floor in soft waves.

Rayon folded his legs up to his chin and covered his ears. He doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear anything. There’s no storm. None. Just forget about it. It’ll be over soon. Just don’t move—don’t say a word and don’t open your eyes.

He tucked his limbs to his center, but it did nothing against the cold. He was going to get sick this way, but what could he do? He couldn’t leave. He didn’t even know how to get back home, let alone where he was in the first place.

The boy shivered and pushed himself further into the crevassed he’d made his shelter. That’s when he heard footsteps dancing down the hallway. They came nearer and nearer until they finally stepped into the room. But Rayon refused to open his eyes to find out what had just come in. He merely ducked his head, hoping to stay hiding.

Then, thunder roared again and he whimpered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Rayon opened his eyes slowly, but didn’t respond.

“Hey, don’t worry, man! Thunder ain’t going to kill you!”  The boy told him cheerfully, flailing his arms wildly. “Unless you did something bad. Then maybe, the Thunder God might spite you. You haven’t done anything bad, have you?”

Rayon merely stared at him like he was crazy.  He was still trying in the middle of accepting that there was a strangely dressed dude in front of him spouting nonsense. What was he doing wearing such a huge jacket anyway? His arm barely reached half of the sleeve and the thing was long enough to be a woman’s dress. It made him look like tumbleweed and it would be funny if it weren’t so weird.

He slowly pulled his hands off his ears, hoping to hear the other boy more clearly, but before he could, it thundered once more. Rayon clamped his ears shut again and dug his chin down further behind his legs. He shivered from the cold, almost wishing he looked as ridiculous as the boy in front of him if it meant being half as warm.

“Can’t you talk or something? Helloooo?” The boy in the huge coat cocked over to the side, chocolate brown lock sliding over his face a little. “Man, why aren’t you wearing a jacket? No wonder you’re all shivering and stuff!”

Rayon could barely make out the boy’s voice from behind his closed off ears and the splattering rain. Next thing he knew though, the strange white kid had sat down and started scooting up to him. “W-what are you doing!” He shouted, more as protest than an inquiry.

The other boy completely ignored him and managed to squeeze in under the broken table next to him. Rayon momentarily forgot how cold he was. There was barely enough space in this little niche for him, let alone another kid in a huge jacket.

“Go away!”

The boy in the jacket settled in neatly in the crevasse. He faced Rayon with a bright, unconcerned look on his face. And Rayon stared back with the most threatening frown his seven-year-old face could muster.

“See, you can talk! That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“There’s no space here. Get out!”  Rayon continued, unamused.

“No! Come on, man, I’m here to help you!” The boy announced proudly.

Rayon continued to look at him like he was out of his mind. But the brunet merely went on to unzip his jacket. He pulled his right arm out of the sleeve and gathered Rayon closer to him, wrapping him softly.

“What are you doing?”

The white kid zipped the jacket back up with both of them in it. They fit in snuggly, though they were still squished together under the table. Rayon could hardly complain anymore. The coat was as warm as it looked and he could already feel his body easing into a more comfortable temperature.

“This is better, isn’t it?” The stranger boy said with a bright smile.

“…”

Rayon didn’t know how to respond, so he continued to stare at the other boy like he was still completely out of his mind.

Thunder spoke again.

Rayon cringed, ducking into the darkness of the huge coat. He closed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his folded legs, shivering again. That’s right. He’d almost forgotten it was still storming. How could he be so careless? He shook with every lightning flash, every noise and creak—trying to brace for the next strike—but it never came.

Instead, there was a smooth guitar, percussions and a sweet bass.

Rayon raised his hand up to his ear and felt a bud there. His fingers followed the wire all the way down until it met the other boy’s hand. He shuddered instantly, pulling away, a tiny blush appearing on his dark face.

The other boy continued to grin at him. The other bud was in his ear. His brow was twitching, like he wanted to move around—but he couldn’t. His eyes drifted down the coat and he grabbed Rayon’s hand, his grin widening. “It’s less scary like this, right?”

Rayon shrugged, turning away but not pulling his hand back from the stranger’s grip. He closed his eyes again, this time significantly less afraid. He let the sound of the sweet guitar fill his senses. It was soothing, in a brutish, loud way. Then again, anything was better than thunder.

The other boy let him rest his head on his shoulder and he simply lied there, feeling like he was overindulging in his presence. Rayon made sure to turn his face away—not that he had to because the other boy was hardly paying attention to him anyway.

The white kid was humming the song they were listening to under his breath, his free hand tapping its rhythm on the concrete floor.

“What’s your name, dude?”

“Rayon,” He replied softly.

“You have a little accent, you know.”

“I’m not from here. I just moved from New Orleans and got lost…”

“I see,”

Rayon opened his eyes again and twisted his head a little to look up at the older boy. He pressed his lips together reluctantly before speaking. “What’s your name?”

“Mine?” He repeated. “Well, it’s _____”

Thunder spoke again, but this time Rayon wasn’t listening.


End file.
